


Family Ties

by aldiara



Category: Alles was zählt
Genre: Angst, Brother Feels, Families of Choice, Gen, Implied Future Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-24
Updated: 2013-06-24
Packaged: 2017-12-15 23:42:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/855315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aldiara/pseuds/aldiara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Faced with the task of championing a little brother, Deniz decides to reach out to his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family Ties

**Author's Note:**

> Set during episode 1256. Basically I will never forgive AWZ for forgetting/ignoring that Marian has TWO sons, and I need to believe that Deniz had his own sources to draw strength from and didn't have to face it all alone. Thanks to Alsha for betaing!
> 
> ~

"And what time do you call this?" is the first thing his mother says into the phone. Her voice is coolly irritated, the way he imagines she might respond to a telemarketer.

"Late," Deniz says. "I'm sorry. I wanted to talk to Alkim. Is he home?" It's late August, it's hot, and he's just come home from another run. His tank top sticks to his chest and the air is thick and unpleasantly damp but that isn't what makes it so hard to breathe. Sometimes he thinks he'll never breathe normally again; that every bit of air he'll ever suck into his lungs will burn and strain and make him feel like this, light-headed and furious and broken to the core.

There's a silence in the line, impossibly cool in the hot summer air, then a sigh. "Deniz, what is this? You do remember our agreement, yes?"

_Fuck your agreement, Mum._

"I do," he says instead, with great restraint, "remember our agreement, Veronika. I don't visit, I don't call, I don't bother you or Harald in any way and I especially don't try to contact, influence or otherwise pervert Alkim. _I remember_ , okay? Now let me speak to him. It's important."

She says nothing for long enough that he wonders if she's simply put the phone down, not even bothering to hang up, just placed it somewhere and wandered off until he'll end the call himself. His fingers tighten. 

Then there are other sounds. A voice, far off, and yet so damn close. His mother's voice replies, muffled, annoyed. The voice again, clearer: "It's okay, Mum. C'mon. Give him to me."

Another silence, airless and tense, then, "Deniz?"

The voice is hesitant and much deeper than he remembers it. Good fucking grief, the kid is nearly the age Deniz himself was when he left. Four years ago. He's not even seen pictures since.

"Kim, hey. How are you doing?"

An awkward silence, then a guarded, "I'm okay. You?"

_Oh, I'm fine. My boyfriend's dying and I have to lie to everyone about it – I lied to his little brother today and I hate myself for it and I needed to hear your voice because… because fuck, I can't do this anymore._

__"I'm fine, Kim. Fine. I just…" His fingers spasm, again, hard enough so he fears he might crush the plastic, fears he might accidentally disconnect the call. "I just wanted to check in on you, that's all. I know Mum's not… I know she doesn't want us talking, but I figured you were old enough so I wouldn't, you know, magically gayify you through the phone or anything."

Bitter, he sounds so bitter. Not good. He forces his voice to be lighter, joking. "Anyway, just curious, I guess. What are you up to these days, Spacko _?"_

"Uhm." The voice is cautious still, though not hostile. Thank god for that much. "I don't know. Normal stuff, I guess. School. Hanging out. World of Warcraft." 

"Yeah? Still slaying dragons and humping elf chicks with big boobs?" The teasing is easier now that he can fall back on memories – a serious, quiet little kid, holed up in his room, hunched over his computer with his giant headphones on. Of course, back then Deniz never did think to question how much of Alkim's retreat into his virtual worlds might have to do with escaping from the real world, where his mother and his big brother were constantly shouting at each other in the next room.

He grimaces at the thought, just as Alkim replies, sounding mildly aggravated. "Don't you start, too. Mum's already on my case about doing more sports and boosting my extra-curriculars or whatever. Like anyone looks at a high-school diploma."

"Right." He clears his throat. "Wouldn't really know about that."

"Yeah, I know, Mr. Dropped Out of School To be A Zooooooooooopermodel." That's definitely a grin in the unfamiliar deep voice. "You did okay for yourself, though, didn't you?"

Deniz frowns. "How do you know?"

"Dude, you were in, like, a million papers. Not to mention the blogs. Don't you keep up with your online fan communities?"

"Er. No?" 

A snort. "Well, I do. Some of them are real creeps." Alkim sounds gleeful, but not malicious. "Anyway, I've kept tabs."

"Stalker." But weirdly, some of the tightness around his chest is suddenly loosened, warmed by the thought of his little brother thinking of him, keeping an eye on what he's been doing. "Found anything I should know about?"

"Nah. Or, well, if I did, I'm keeping it to myself. You never know when I might need blackmail material. So, you still with your boyfriend, then? That Roman guy?" The question sounds innocuous, friendly even, but Deniz can't quite bring himself to reply unguardedly.

"Yes," is all he can say.

The pause draws out long enough to become awkward. He hears a noise that might be a sigh, or Kim clearing his throat.

"Hey, I’m not… I mean, I've read stuff. And seen your pictures. You guys looked happy, so that's… you know, that's cool."

"Yeah. Yeah, we're… happy." The afternoon's sensations slam into him with brutal clarity: the sun-heated planks of the raft beneath his back, the warm strength of Roman's fingers laced with his, so real, so comforting.

 _All the time in the world._  
  
He's suddenly blinking hard, the familiar lines of their living room blurring. This is horrible timing; Roman will be done with his training shortly and he'll need to go to the Centre and pick him up. More than that, he'll need to talk to him about Flo. He'll need to have a strategy, arguments, a clear-headed approach because Roman's edges are sharper than ever these days and he's all too quick to lash back with the ultimate road block, that fucking, hated _I'm dying, you owe me._ He cannot, absolutely cannot afford to break down right now.

"Deniz?" The voice sounds honestly concerned, caution abandoned so quickly, and suddenly Deniz is desperate, seriously desperate to have something solid to go with it; to see the almost-man his brother's become. His eyes will still be blue like their dad's, his hair probably brown like always, but other than that, Deniz has no clue what to picture; whether Kim has grown lanky and tall or stayed the scrawny little nerdy git he was at twelve; whether he looks you in the eye when he talks; whether he still sneaks in hugs the way he did when he was little, thin arms wrapped tightly around Deniz's neck as he pretended the frequent piggyback rides were for fun rather than any need for physical affection.

"Deniz? Are you there?" 

"Yes," he says, and marvels a bit at how his voice sounds so normal, so reassuring. "Yes. You know what, Kim, I gotta go, but I was wondering – do you maybe want to come visit sometime? You could meet Roman, and his brother Florian, he's about your age, I'm sure you guys would get on a treat."

Actually, he isn't sure of any such thing – Flo with his hockey and Kim with his WoW seem an unpromising combination at best – but anything sounds better than _I need you_ and _please, Kim, please._  
  
There's silence down the line, and he hastens to add, "I mean, it's okay if you don't want to, and I don't want to get you into trouble with Mum, so-"

"I'll handle Mum," Kim says, quick and quiet as if he's too conscious of her in the same flat, maybe trying to listen in. "I'd love to."

Deniz finds, to his surprise, that he's grinning like an idiot. "Okay. Awesome! Just let me know when!"

"I will." Alkim is smiling too. He can hear it. "You guys do have WiFi, right?"

"Er, yeah. I think so."

"You _think_ so? Oh my god, you barbarians."

"Nerd."

"Noob."

"I don't even know what that means, dude."

Kim laughs. The sound is rich and soothing in Deniz's ear and he soaks it up, drawing it in and hoarding it against some future, laughless day. "That's 'cause you're a loser."

"Yeah, whatever," he snorts, and because Kim is laughing still, excited and almost fond, Deniz can afford to hold it together, to not let the impact of the friendly insult show. He's been called a loser any number of times by any number of people (many of them justified), but never has he felt the label applied quite so much or quite so literally as this summer, when every passing second feels like a personal defeat, a loss he can't recoup.

"Okay, then – I'll sort out train tickets and talk to Mum and stuff. I'll call, okay?"

"Alright. I'm looking forward to it."

"Me too!" 

Deniz puts the phone down half elated, half terrified, suddenly unprepared for what he's started. The potential for mutual disappointment is all too keen in his mind – Kim might hate him, he might hate Kim, Dad will be floored and Veronika will probably sic the cops on him for child abduction or something. __  
  
But when he rallies, he realises that the air is no longer too thick to breathe and that he feels up to taking a shower and putting on clean clothes and walking to the Centre now. Realises that he is ready to go and face Roman, with his brittle smiles and death quips and casual brutal realism; ready to speak up for Florian, harshly if need be, because this is too important. Because this is the family they've made, regardless of upbringing or birth right, and _that_ is why he needs them to tackle this together, blood ties be damned: brothers and lovers, the three of them, to the end.


End file.
